


Falling Upside Down

by Colt_kun



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Human Bunnymund, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colt_kun/pseuds/Colt_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reposting from the rotg kink meme - long prompt posted in the notes of the story.</p><p>Bunnymund's been in need of a sub for a while when he stumbles across his childhood crush, Jack Frost. Jack's Dom Pitch definitely wouldn't approve.</p><p>The tagged Non-con is in reference to an inability to object, rather than actual lack of consent. It's more dub-con, but tagged to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Prompt: 
> 
> Aster Bunnymund is a respected and famous freelance artist who lives alone in his home in the forest with his garden and art, surrounded by nature. He is a Dom who has not had a sub in a long while since realizing he's in love with his childhood neighbor, Jack Frost. He is a loving dom, who only wants to be able to protect and care for his sub. Aster is strict when necessary but will not abuse his sub. He is not the kind of dom who needs his sub to be obedient and being all “yes, master” and prefers that his sub can be independent in some ways but understands when Aster makes certain decisions for the well-being of his sub. He does have a dungeon with toys and whatnot.
> 
> Jack Frost is a college graduate planning to get his teaching credentials and has just been thrown out and released by his first Dom, Kozmotis Pitchiner because Jack wouldn't break into being completely obedient. The relationship only lasted a few months, but it was mostly an abusive relationship. Jack has long been in love with his childhood neighbor Aster Bunnymund, but hasn't seen him since the elder left their hometown. He is a sub who wants to be protected and cared for and punished when needed. Jack knows that he can get a bit out of control and needs a dom who can ground him and help him focus. If he fights his dom, he’ll eventually apologize for his actions and say something like “i understand you’re doing this for my well-being” , though with Kozmotis he was punished severely anyway.
> 
> Aster finds a beaten and bloody Jack, and takes him to his place and tends to him. Both men never thought they'd see the other and begin to reconnect. When Aster learns what Jack has been up to, he eagerly wants to take Jack as his sub, but is reluctant because of how damaged Jack appears to be after his first experience. Aster offers Jack a place to stay, and help Jack get back on his feet and pursue his dreams. Jack agrees and the two begin to live together. As they live together Aster notices some of Jack’s habits old and new and uses his experience to help Jack and Jack asks Aster to be his dom. From then on they live together in a healthy dom/sub relationship with all the extras (bondage, toys etc). Eventually they’ll confess their love as well.

Aster would swear up and down it was fate for years to come. Of course, at the moment he was just swearing at the blade that slipped from the taped box of new canvases and sliced his other hand open. Red stained the washcloth bandage instantly, and he was afraid to inspect how deep it went. But he was losing an awful lot of blood.

 

He didn't even think of calling 911. No way in hell he was explaining why he had some of the equipment set up in the living room - leather and chains and metal poles that had gathered dust. He bandaged up his hand as best he could, at least thankful it wasn't his dominant hand, and drove himself to the ER.

 

The nurse took one look at his hand, and escorted him quickly into the ER attending room where the beds were divided by thin blue curtains. She rebandaged his hand and then asked all of the usual information before declaring a doctor would be with him shortly.

 

"Name?" came from the other side of the curtain.

 

"Jackson Overland Frost."

 

Aster froze. In his mind, he was suddenly thrown back to his childhood and the small neighborhood he grew up in. A teenager and thrumming full of hormones, already finding strange pleasure in pining his opponents beneath him during backyard wrestling matches. He held them there longer than he should, long after they had cried uncle and quit fighting back. He saw the boy he shared a backyard fence with - pale and so blonde his hair was white - the boy who continued to squirm and writhe under Aster despite being pinned.

 

"Got in a bar brawl?" the nurse's skeptical question brought Aster back to the present. "And you aren't old enough to drink?"

 

There was no reply - which Aster desperately wished there was, just to confirm he wasn't hearing a voice he shouldn't possibly be hearing - before the nurse continued. "Young man, if you're a victim of domestic abuse, there's no shame in asking for help-"

 

Aster didn't let her finish after that. He drew back the curtain with his good hand, despite the squawked protest of the nurse. He took in the ratty blood-stained hoodie, ghost-white hair, and wide blue eyes made impossibly bluer by the stains of bruises and a busted lip.

 

"Aster...?" Jack asked, a note of confusion, before the nurse snapped the curtain shut between them. Aster's head was swimming as he heard her asking if the hospital needed to relocate him.

 

A doctor came in and stitched Aster's hand shut, while Aster listened through the curtain to the list of injuries.

 

All the unwelcoming feelings from his childhood came rushing back. The age gap had been too wide between them then for Aster to understand why the skinny pale boy mad him so interested. He just liked his fighting spirit and the way he didn’t back down from Aster, despite the age and size difference.

 

Aster recognized, years later when he slipped into the lifestyle, that he favored them a little rebellious.

 

He heard the pained cry – bad pain – from the other side of the curtain, and the nurse saying, “Yes, I think you’ve got a few cracked ribs dear, but they don’t seem broken.”

 

“So Mr. Bunnymund,” the doctor was suddenly talking to him again and he had to pay attention. “You seem to have lost quite a bit of blood, are you feeling weak at all?”

 

“Yeah,” he answered before his brain figured out the logic of why. “Yeah, kind of shaky. And light-headed.” Even though he felt perfectly fine aside from the thundering pain in his chest hearing the diagnosis from the next curtain over.

 

The doctor nodded. “Well, we’ll keep you here for a little while on observation. I’ll have a nurse get something for you to drink to help you feel better.” Aster nodded, and strained to listen again after the doctor left. But the other side was silent as well.

 

“Aster?” came a tentative voice, and that was all the permission he needed to draw the curtain aside again.

 

“Jackie.” The boy’s eyes widen in surprise. His pants were gone this time, and he was covered by a hospital sheet. When he moved to face Aster with a wince, the sheet slid enough to reveal a few inches of milky upper thigh… blotted with bruises.

 

“Small world after all.” Jack’s busted lip moved into a quirked smile. “Haven’t seen you since you moved.”

 

“Went to college.” Aster tried not to let his eyes stray around Jack’s face or, heaven forbid, back to his leg. But some of the bruises were faded, green with near-healed, while some were still bright red and purple that would just get worse before getting better.

 

Jack saw where he was looking, and withdrew his leg under the sheet. “Got into a fight,” Jack said with a pained grin. “You should see the other guy.”

 

Aster wanted to, to pound his face into the pavement.

 

“What’re you up to now?” Jack was asking, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from his injuries.

 

“Freelance artist.”

 

Jack’s eyes widened. “Wait, as in Bunnymund the artist who did that mural for the museum a few years back?”

 

He was secretly pleased that Jack knew his work, even if it was the most publicized one. They talked in that vein for a while, and around the doctors and nurses stopping by to check various things and administer medication Aster wrestled out of Jack that he was a student at the local university, and didn’t seem to have much spare time. Aster was proudly telling him about his little cottage when the nurses announced that Jack was free to go with some bedrest and a warning to return if he felt pain in his spine or had a lasting headache. The nurse pointedly reminded Aster he had been free to go for a few hours, and the amused smile on Jack’s face wasn’t lost on him.

 

“Let me drive you home,” Aster offered immediately, if only to spent more time with the boy. And figure out where he lived to frequent the area in hopes of running into him again.

 

Jack tenderly shouldered a battered backpack and thought for a moment. “If you could take me to the student center on campus, I wouldn’t say no.”

 

Aster frowned, and checked his phone. “It’s past midnight now, mate.”

 

“It’s okay, the student center is open all night.”

 

“No, I want to make sure you get home and have someone to look after you while you heal up.”

 

Jack frowned, his brow setting in that petulant look that Aster liked on anyone, and immediately adored on him. “I’m fine. Just the student center.”

 

Something clicked in Aster’s mind as he surveyed the still-forming bruises on Jack’s face – and now neck. “Why can’t you go home, Jackie.” His voice was flatlined.

 

Jack looked uncomfortable, before settling into the stubborn personality of his. “I just can’t, okay? My life is… complicated.”

 

“What about your mom’s?” The drive wouldn’t be that far to the little out of town neighborhood.

 

“She’s dead,” Jack retorted, closing up more by the minute. “She and my sister.”

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Aster blurted immediately.

 

“Look, it’s just… it’s complicated, alright?” Jack looked exhausted, and now that Aster was paying more attention, he took in the taunt cheeks and thin wrists. “I just want to go to the student center. It’s Friday night, so I’ll sleep on a couch there, and figure it all out in the morning.”

 

“I’m not letting you sleep in the student center,” Aster spat, and guided Jack to his car. “If you’re going to crash on any couch, it’s going to be mine.”

 

“Look, I know we were kinda friends and all, but that was years ago-“

 

“Get in the car.”

 

Jack shut his mouth and slid in the door Aster held out without another protest, clutching his backpack to him. Aster shut the door, and got in himself before he remembered exactly what was at home and why he never brought anyone there – unless they signed a contract.

 

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Aster didn’t think twice to pay for Jack’s prescription at the pharmacy – it was a cheap bottle of basic pain killers that cost less than what Aster spent at a coffee shop. Jack didn’t have anything in his wallet save a student id, an insurance card, and an old movie ticket stub. Aster teased him about forgetting his card, to which Jack grumbled he would pay him back. And he found out that Jack’s blush went down his neck.

Aster was a little relieved when Jack fell asleep against the car door, his breath fogging up the window. The more he thought about it, the more the simple act of letting Jack crash for a while seemed like a bad idea. But it never crossed his mind to withdraw the offer or wish to take it back – he just thought of more and more elaborate ways to get around his lifestyle choice and keeping it from Jack.

Which was difficult, considering in their short conversation span he recognized Jack wasn’t the typical new college student stupid – he was actually very clever, and insanely sarcastic. It was refreshing, most guys Aster brought home were sweet faced, but dumb as bricks.

Aster’s masterful plan to run inside and hide everything while Jack was still asleep was ruined by the first bump in the dirt road to his cottage. Jack woke up, disoriented for a moment, but stayed awake while Aster parked the car.

“This where you live?” Jack asked with some confusion.

“Ah, yeah.” Aster looked at the cottage. It looked smaller than it was, the second floor actually being on ground level at this height. Circling the cottage meant going downhill, and walking under a porch to get to the first floor. Which was, for all intents and purposes, blocked off and the windows covered.

“Expected the batcave.”

“Would that make you Dick Grayson?” Aster teased as they slid from the car, Jack moving very slowly and tenderly.

“More of a Tim Drake fan myself.” Jack let out a hiss of pain and his hand went to his side to cradle his ribs.

Aster came up with a new plan. “Let’s get you in the shower. That’ll help some with the soreness.”

“Come on,” Aster ushered Jack into the house, quickly passing the darkened doorway to the living room and leading towards the bathroom.

“Dude, what have you got against lights?”

“Must be used to the place.” The bathroom was safe to stow Jack long enough the clean up the more incriminating stuff. He fetched a towel - a little paint stained - and left it on the toilet seat. “Holler if you need anything.”

“Hey Aster?”

He looked up at the boy, who was currently looking very interested in the carpet. “Yeah?”

“…I’m sorry.” The words came in a rush.

Aster frowned. “For what?”

Jack gave a one shoulder shrug that ended with a hiss if pain. “Get some heat on that mate, it’ll help.”

With the door safely shut behind him, Aster went to work. The big stuff was already downstairs, so it was nothing to move the rest down with it or to Aster’s room. He even had time to pick up some forgotten art supplies and remove the remains of several dinners before the water shut off. The door opened around the time he had scrounged up a sheet originally purchased as a quick drop sheet and a spare blanket. He had only one pillow that would be of any use for sleeping.

Jack exited redressed in his hoodie and brown jeans, hair damp and looking exhausted. Aster almost laughed when Jack collapsed on the couch facedown with a groan of pleasure, if the sound didn’t go straight to his groin.

“Not a night owl then,” he asked instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night,” Jack mumbled into the cushion. Then he added “Your couch smells funny.”

“If you’re getting around to complaining about my furniture, then I’ll be off to bed. Help yourself to the kitchen.” Aster waved his bandaged hand in the direction.

Jack turned his head to face Aster. “You know, I could just rob you blind,” he drawled. Aster rolled his eyes.

“A burglar with cracked ribs. You’re a right genius of one then.”

“Nah, I’d steal the paintings. Go sell ‘em, pay off tuition.”

“And now I have proof of premeditation.”

“The pain meds. Made me say funny things.”

“I think you’d say them without drugs too.”

“I am almost hurt by that.” Jack’s grin was half hidden by the rucked up sheet, eyes fever bright with mischief. When his subs got it, Aster knew he was in for a treat.

He quickly turned away. “Go to sleep, brat.”

“Yeah, yeah, that one definitely caused a pain.”

“Its just your ribs.” With that Aster quickly retreated to his room.

He popped his own pain prescription, and tried to force himself to sleep. But the dark always welcomed memories, and he was suddenly reliving being pelted with snowballs that had been freezer-saved in the summer and throwing dirt clods at the wall. When he had left, the neighbor boy was barely a teen himself. He still looked it, sprawled out on Aster’s couch, but lean with planes and angles that hadn’t been fleshed out before. He hadn’t said goodbye back then, and wrestling matches had long been a thing of the past.

And in the dark of his bedroom hiding some very adult things he had to admit to himself he had been denying then what he fully accepted now.

Aster awoke to the boyish voice raised in anger in the living room. He had a fitful sleep, only half brought on by the pain in his hand.

“You’re an asshole! What did you think I was going to do?!”

He emerged from his room, pulling a clean shirt on to go with his pants from yesterday. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Really. I’m -” Jack looked up at him as he entered the room, and lifted a hand in a silent greeting and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. A cell phone was in his other. Aster grumbled and headed for the coffepot.

“I’m at a friend’s.” Aster wished he wasn’t hearing this. “Plenty! I just don’t tell you about them.”

“You are far too loud for this early in the morn’,” Aster groused more to himself than his guest in the next room.

“Fine. I’m listening.”

Aster grumbled more and chugged down the dark liquid.

“Okay. Okay. …Fine. I said fine! Yes! Later.” A click ended the conversation as Jack slipped into the kitchen.

He raised a dark eyebrow. ”Not even gonna bother with a mug?” The bruises were even uglier and starker in the morning light.

Aster growled at him. “Not when I use em for cleaning brushes. Too many close calls.” More coffee, definitely more coffee. With plenty of sugar this time.

“Whoa, someone’s a grump without caffeine. I will leave you to make out with the coffeepot.”

When he finally felt awake enough, Aster ambled into the living room to find Jack scrolling through his phone and biting his lip.

“Who was that?”

“Hm? Oh, nobody.” Jack grinned and snapped a picture of Aster. He frowned as Jack tapped away. “Hey, what’s your number?”

Aster had to think to rattle it off. He hated phones, they were annoying and interrupting. He told Jack so, to which the boy laughed.

“It’s horrible! To be in the zone and working away and suddenly someone’s clamoring for your attention. Why do I have to be in touch 24/7?”

Jack’s smile only widened. “Geez Grandpa, I bet you don’t text at all.”

“Yeah well that’s the generation gap for ya.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Jack retorted a little too quickly. His phone buzzed again, making him sigh and slide from the couch. “Look, I gotta… I gotta go. Figure stuff out.”

“Yeah.” Aster wanted to tell the kid to stay, turn on the television or something. But Aster had no claim to him, no reason that Jack had to obey or listen. “But hey, if you need a place to crash again-“

“Send a smoke signal?” Jack fetched his backpack, and the wince nearly made Aster grab at him, refuse to let him leave.

“Funny.”

“Fine I’ll text you.” Jack leaned against the door and mimed it. “It’s like a telegram…”

“Get out."

Jack laughed and made his way out the door, calling back, “Later days!”

Aster stood in the now empty – emptier – living room, staring at the couch where Jack had messily folded the blanket and sheet. He suddenly wished he had come out at some point in the night and seen Jack sleeping.

The door opened again with a slow creak. “Hey, Batman. How do I get out of here?”


	3. Chapter 3

When Aster finally dug out his phone, the first text message read:

-Dude, you live in the middle of nowhere.-

The second was:

-I’ve never met a real live hermit before!-

He chuckled, and saved the number on his phone under ‘Frostbite’.

 

Inspiration struck him hard, and Aster had holed himself up in his studio. It was the day after before he thought of Jack, and wondered at why the boy hadn’t come back the night before. He pulled out his phone and slowly pecked at the keyboard.

-u ok or do u need place 2 crash???-

Jack’s reply vibrated his phone before he could even put it away.

-You text like an internet pedo pretending he’s 13. I’d rather not risk getting in your clutches again!-

Aster had to laugh.

-i h8 texting-

-Oh my god stop. Just stop. It’s too painful.-

When he finally dragged himself away from his studio to his bed that night, he wished again for someone to have warmed up the sheets already.

 

Aster wasn’t exactly sure what was in front of him at the moment, but his taste buds had gone somewhere after the fourth shot between beers. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t like the list of ingredients though, since his friend had a tendency to make some deadly cocktails.

“And the bluest eyes ever,” he found himself saying. “God, why are they blue?”

“You always had thing for blue eyes.” North’s massive hands still worked away at mixing cocktails for other patrons, making Aster dizzy to look at.

“Yeah, but I think I did cause of him,” he complained.

“Bunny,” North started, and the twinge of annoyance making Aster want to correct him – BunnyMUND, or Aster was his first name and North knew that goddammit – faded quickly, “You should come in again.”

“I am in again,” Aster pointed out.

“On fetish night,” North rolled right on as if he hadn’t finished his original thought, “Come see new blood. Lots of new young boys.”

“I’m not into ageplay like you mate.” Aster dug for his cell phone. He scrolled through the inane texts Jack had been blowing up his phone with until he found a picture Jack had sent of him wearing goggles and gloves. “Look at him.” He shoved the phone into North’s face.

“ ‘Stand back, I’m going to attempt science’?” North read the caption with a hint of amusement. “He is very your type.”

“And that’s the problem. I think maybe he… he defined my type for me.”

North inspected the photo more. “Lots of bruises.”

“He got into a fight. Not that I’d blame the other guy, he’s got a mouth on him. He’s sarcastic and dammit he’s smart and I like it when we have text wars and he makes fun of me like he’s not scared of me-“

“Would look good in gear, would he not?”

Aster snatched the phone back as if he could remove the idea from North’s head before he realized North was messing with him.

“You need new playmate, my friend,” North chuckled.

“Rack off.” Aster chugged down the rest of his drink. The world swam around him.

“Bunny, what are you doing?”

He ignored North’s question as he hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” The voice was like a sweet balm to his frazzled nerves and the mouth brake in his head completely disengaged.

“Okay, so what kind of blue is that anyways? Cause I’ve been trying to mix it all week and I just can’t get it right,” he complained.

There was a long pause before Jack asked, “Aster?”

“Maybe it’s cause I’m using oil paints. But dammit I can’t get it blue enough.”

“Are you drunk?” There was a hint of laughter in the question.

North was saying something, and Aster ignored him.

“I can’t get it out of my head and I can’t get it on the canvas and it’s driving me nuts.”

“Aster, where – oh my god the wife did it, you’ve seen this damn episode a million times already –“ It took a minute for Aster to realize that probably wasn’t directed at him, and maybe he was a lot more drunk than he felt. “Aster, where are you?”

“Bar,” he grunted.

"Is someone with you?"

“Nobody.” He heard North’s protest, so he amended, “The bartender.”

“Can I talk to the bartender?”

Aster handed the phone to North without thinking, and North was looking amused as all hell and damn his head hurt suddenly. Then North was handing the phone back.

“Okay, he said he already took your keys and will see that you get home. Alright?”

“Are you gonna be there?” Shit, he wasn’t supposed to ask that.

Jack made an amused noise. “Why, do you want me there? Hey give my phone ba-”

The line was dead, and Aster was just plain confused.


	4. Chapter 4

Aster didn’t hear anything from Jack after that.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really, the boy had come into his life abruptly and it seemed natural for him to exit the same way – but Aster was mildly annoyed because he didn’t want him to leave. Also, Aster was certain Jack was addicted to texting and he had been all too happy to be an outlet.

He called a few times but the phone went straight to voice mail. He even attempted texting, hoping the boy would rise to the occasion and tease him about his proclaimed horrible texting skills.

Aster wasn’t entirely certain of what he had said during the drunken phone call, and wondered if he had said something incredibly inappropriate even for a college student. He hoped he wasn’t so hard up that he scared off the kid, so he agreed to North’s invitation to fetish night at the bar. But he still skulked around the campus coffee shops, hoping to catch Jack in his natural habitat.

“It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth,” Aster complained.

North rolled his eyes. “Bunny, would you relax? You’re here to have fun, get Blue Eyes off your mind.”

Aster looked around the bar. In a college town, there were always new faces. Lots of them were there testing the waters or to see what the lifestyle was life – Aster knew most of them would leave fairly quickly. They were the ones with wide eyes, in clothes far too conservative for this crowd or overly provocative – the extreme ends from not knowing how to dress. He saw a few regulars, some there for the camaraderie and to show off new toys and some cruising the crowd for a short term engagement from the newbies who would bite, and a few irregulars like himself that hardly came out at all.

And some he wished would never come out.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as a most unwanted face slithered up. Aster was glad he chose to wore his disguise again. The whole ‘brooding artist with a kink’ was not an angle he wanted to sell his art from, and wasn’t stable enough yet that sudden exposure couldn’t ruin his reputation.

“Well, I haven’t seen that mask around for a while. Where did you come out of hiding?”

“Pitch, preying on the little boys around town again?” Aster retorted.

Pitch sneered out of his nose. “While you may have no issues repeatedly dabbling in the cess pool of STDs this town offers, I prefer more permanent arrangements.”

Aster made a show of looking around, and motioned out. “I don’t see anyone mentally deficient enough to agree to kneeling for you.”

Pitch laughed. “Oh, I’ll bring him in soon to show him off. When I can.”

“Then what are you doing here tonight if you have a sub?” North asked gruffly, and Aster knew the only reason this creep wasn’t banned from North’s bar was how bad it would look for business.

“A slave. And distraction while he’s …unwell.” Pitch looked at Aster with a sneer. “Tell me… how’s the painting going?”

Aster immediately went on the defensive. “How’s what going?”

Pitch tapped his leather shoe against Aster’s sneaker. “You should get someone to scrub your shoes clean. Saw the paint, figured… remodeling?” A sly smirk sneaked across Pitch’s face. “Good luck with that.”

North and Aster both watched him walk away. “That guy gives me the creeps.”

North made an agreeing noise. “Gives bad name to local scene.” He clapped Aster on the shoulder. “Loosen up, find a young face to talk to.”

“I don’t want a one night stand,” Aster complained. “I want long-term.”

“Short term becomes long term with time,” North shrugged, and went back to mixing drinks.

Aster mingled for a few minutes, trying to be polite to the kids bold enough to approach him. Normally he’d like that – the shy ones generally weren’t his type – but none of their eyes were blue enough.

He pulled out his phone and tried again, just to get the answering machine. “Hey, Jackie boy, hope you didn’t fall into a lake somewhere. Call me back when you get this, alright?”

He slid the phone back into his pocket, and went home alone. Maybe by the time Jack got around to returning messages, Aster would work up the courage to ask him out for a cup of coffee sometime.


	5. Chapter 5

“Your Blue Eyes works at my gym.”

“What?” Aster perked up, suddenly glad he had answered the phone during the middle of a frenzied painting session. He had been a little disappointed to hear North’s voice, but the news it brought was worth the let-down. He would never admit to the mad grab he had made at the phone when it rang, hoping it was Jack. Ever.

“He is good with kids. Works in children’s play area.”

Aster absorbed the new information and filed it away, playing with the paintbrush in his hand.

“Thought you would race down here.”

“He hasn’t called me back.” It was a fact Aster didn’t want to admit to himself. He tossed the paintbrush onto the drop cloth covered tabletop and picked up another one, swirling paint. “If he wanted me to contact him, he’d let me know.”

“Did not think you’d give up chase so easily,” North stated, and Aster could almost hear the fuzzy eyebrow raise. “A good struggle is worthwhile, yes?”

Aster guffawed, dabbing at the canvas.

North’s voice went vaguely distracted. “When did you say he was in fight?”

Aster mentally counted. “Two weeks. Why?”

“Fresh bruise on soft tissue.”

Aster cursed himself for being weak-willed as he signed his name. The chipper front desk girl smiled and gathered up the contract. “Welcome, Mr. Bunnymund! Let me get your temporary membership card ready for you.”

As she walked away, Aster reassured himself that he had been meaning to join a gym for a while - usually on New Year’s - and that he would actually use it… North would laugh at him for hours, and he suddenly regretted agreeing to show up to the local scene this weekend.

“Excuse me,” he asked when the girl returned. “I understand you have a daycare center of some kind…?”

She smiled and pointed the way, and Aster barely gave her the time to hand over the welcome packet before he made his way to the counter with the child-sized arched doorway.

A girl with green and purple dyed hair practically skipped up to the counter, her eyes roaming up and down him hard. “Can I help you?” she asked with sincere cheerfulness and a big smile.

“Hey there sheila,” Aster smiled with as much charm as he could muster. “Is Jack around today?”

Something clicked and her smile only got wider. “Jaaaack, there’s someone here to seeeee you!”

There was a slight scuffle, and Aster saw fingers grip the wall and then Jack appeared dragging his legs, a boy clinging to one ankle and a girl sitting on the other foot.

“Sophie, Jamie, let go before you trip him! He’s still hurt!” Jack’s coworker darted over to peel the little girl off.

“Never! We captured the elusive Big Foot!”

“Big Foot! Big Foot!”

“Thanks Ana.” Jack looked up and saw Aster, and he smiled broadly.

“Hey,” Aster greeted lamely.

“Hey yourself,” Jack looked amused as he leaned on the counter, still moving a little stiffly. “Are you stalking me now?”

Aster briefly considered denying it, but he had asked for Jack by name… Cards on the table. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”

Jack chuckled with no hesitation. “Well, it’s better than admitting you hang around a kid’s daycare for kicks.”

“I had to resort to desperate measures, you weren’t answering your phone.”

Jack looked sheepish. “It kinda… Broke.”

“Broke?” Aster echoed as relief rushed him. Jack wasn’t avoiding him.

“Yeah, and I have to earn a new one.” Jack scratched at the back of his head. “So sorry, I haven’t gotten your-“

There were ugly purple markings nearly hidden by Jack’s hood.

Aster seized Jack’s hood to pull it away before even thinking about asking permission. The bruise wrapped around the back of the boy’s thin neck.

Jack jerked away but Aster held fast. “These’re fresh.” His voice was flat with unconcealed anger. Aster knew wrap bruises weren’t easily accidental.

“Jack?” he asked.

“Look it’s not what you think,” Jack started to blurt, but the thought died as a shrill cry of pain came from the play area.

“Sophie fell again!”

Jack moved automatically for the dividing wall.

“Jack!” Aster almost lunged over the counter. “Jack, talk to me!”

Jack turned halfway, his brow furrowed as he glanced at Aster and back into the playroom where the cries were getting longer.

“Look, it’s – I can’t – I’ll explain later,” he blurted.

“After work?” Aster asked.

“I’m busy!” Jack was clearly getting frustrated. “How about… how about after my classes on Monday, before I work? At four. The south corner of campus by that pilgrim family statue.”

Aster barely nodded before Jack slipped away. The cries were almost immediately quieted. Aster moved down until he found the small viewing window. The girl, Ana, was animatedly talking to Jack, the little blonde girl resting her head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked clearly uncomfortable as Ana started skipping in place with her fingers pressed to her mouth. She clapped her hands around his cheeks as they reddened and he cast a look around nervously.

Aster ducked away from the window before he could be seen spying. He really was turning into a stalker, but this kid had reclaimed the ages old hold he had on Aster, and Aster didn’t want it to slip away again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was written in sections via cell. I was going to drag this out more, but it was getting more and more forced and just caused a stall in both storyline and my writing. So sorry if this chapter seems rushed, I just wanted to get this out of the way and on with the plot to the fun part.

Aster was certain this weekend was going to strangle him.

He tried to distract himself, but his paintbrush developed a thing for not listening to him. His show manager had been wrangling him a new venue, and Aster couldn't seem to produce much for it beyond a new series of a winter sprite with an obvious inspiration source. He didn’t think a whole new style would be accepted well at this point. He was annoyed it wasn't Monday yet, and his lack of... frustration outlet. Working through it was difficult, so he tried to expend the energy into his garden, which helped. Some.

He was almost back in the zone, letting his brush do whatever since it wasn't obeying anyway, when his alarm went off. 

Aster pulled away from the canvas, surprised to find the winter background barely blocked in while the two subjects were already finished, although the details were blurry.

He wondered what was the alarm for, he already ate some leftovers - oh. Club. Promise to North. Right.

 

"My friend!" North greeted boisterously loud, clapping Aster on the shoulder. "Thought I had to add you to Naughty List! But you show up!"

He rolled his eyes and lamely replied, “It hasn’t been that long – “

“Since before two shows ago.” North raised his glass. “I remember.”

Aster snorted, and adjusted his mask. “North, you wouldn’t remember the month if your hired hands weren’t there to remind you.”

“That is why they are hired!” North laughed. “Come, let us find you new friend.”

Aster thought of Jack, and sighed. He wished society was as open as it claimed to be. Some of the time. But he let North point out the newer faces he had seen in the scene lately. Aster milled around the floor, nodding to a few familiar faces or masks. He walked past the private rooms at the back, glancing in the open windows meaning anyone was welcome to watch, but avoided the open doors inviting others to join.

North bought Aster a drink from a young uncollared girl who didn’t raise her eyes during the order, but smiled sweetly all the same. North flirted with her while Aster scanned the crowd, appreciating the current scene playing out on the rack. He had his own in his basement, but the handholds were a new idea. He wondered if he could add them to his without risking a stablization problem…

 “Bunny-“ North jabbed Aster’s shoulder. “Bunny-“

Aster turned, “What are-“

A shock of white hair passed.

“ _Jack_?”

The boy stopped, and turned. He stared for a second with a bit of a scowl, eyes scanning North then Aster for a moment before recognition kicked in around the mask.

North's jabs on Aster's shoulder became more insistent as if he hadn't seen, but Aster was too shocked to push him away. Jack’s jaw twitched, but nothing came out. The black outfit he wore left little to the imagination, and Aster was fairly certain he could count all of Jack's ribs through the skin-tight material. The war between a Dom's prerogative to look at a sub's body on display and the common decency to look away like he would for a civilian played out in his head. Aster’s breath caught in his throat, and then all he could see was the thick black collar digging into Jack’s chin.

Before Aster could say a word, a dark hand slid across Jack’s shoulders. “Just the two I wanted to see.” Pitch gave a slow, slick smile. “I said I would bring my slave around.”

Jack's face bled away to near white as he jammed his hands in his armpits, crossing his arms high on his chest and shying away from. North said something, Aster couldn’t tell what, still staring.

Pitch took the whole scene in with amusement until he saw Jack's reaction. His eyes slanted in rage as he seized Jack's bare shoulder in a death grip. Aster rippled with disgust.

"Pet, do you know them?" his voice seethed. Jack's eyes flickered to Aster, and the fear in them made his stomach coil. Many called him lenient, but he thought a sub should be afraid of punishment, never his Dom. Pitch saw the direction Jack looked in, and dug his nails into the pale shoulder. “You may speak.”

"…Yes, Sir… We were neighbors as kids," He started slowly, as if gauging Aster's reaction. "And-"

"It's been years since I saw the boy," Aster replied, talking over him. He tried to keep the dismissive tone in his voice even as his throat tried to clench shut. "It took me a moment to recognize him."

Jack gave a wary smile. "The accent confirms it.”

Pitch's grip loosened, but his expression didn't change. He put his hand in his pocket.

"Follow," he commanded as he turned on heel and walked away. Jack hesitated a second before he did as he was told, glancing back at Aster with an unreadable expression.

Aster didn't realize he was cursing under his breath until North patted his arm.

"We could take him. You get stake, I get garlic."

"He's into BDSM?" Aster heard himself ask. "He's with Pitch?"

Too many pieces fell into place. But the overall picture was enough to make him sick. The gleeful hope he felt at seeing Jack in a BDSM club was quickly drowned with disgust at the thought of Pitch being his Dom. It got worse when he recalled Pitch calling Jack his slave, not sub.

He saw Pitch give a command to Jack to kneel by his chair, and the raised chin and very deliberate manner in which he obeyed showed that Jack's fighting spirit wasn't completely broken. The anger on Pitch's face just meant 'yet', as he answered with a harsh cuff to the side of Jack's head.

"North, I gotta... I gotta go." If he didn't leave now, he might do something monumentally stupid and earn himself a ban from the local scene. It was bad form to prey on someone else's claimed sub - or slave. So he stumbled from the club, finding his way to the car while angry and bitter with disappointment. He tried to reason with himself, that maybe the lifestyle had gotten to him and he automatically projected his feelings or thought Jack would – 

No. Aster’s pocket vibrated as he parked messily aside his cottage, still in denial well until he stared at the latest work in progress on the easel, Aster had meant to give this one to him on Monday. His memory was fuzzy about Jack’s sister except as a brown haired tag along, but he remembered Jack’s adoring smile for her that he mimicked in paint.  
  
This was completely stupid - crushing over a boy that had just barely re-entered his life. One that was already taken. He pulled the painting off the easel and set it aside before collapsing on the couch. He rubbed his hands across his face and sighed hard.

Aster's pocket vibrated again. Irritated, he dug the phone out meaning to turn it off, stopping short when he saw "Frostbite" printed on the screen.

"Jack! What the hell mate, Pitch? Really?" he'd return to the 'into BDSM in the first place' topic later. Way later. "How thick are you?"

There was no answer. "Jack?" Aster asked warily.

The line went dead.

Aster was getting that a lot lately.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written on my phone during work breaks because Pooka-curse and MightyPigBoy from tumblr asked for more. Thanks gents for the motivation!

"Not that one," Aster growled.

The blonde man holding up a winter sprite piece frowned back at him. He looked to the painting and back at Aster, bouncing it a moment.

"No, Sandy. Leave it be."

Sandy cast a look around the studio, at all the pieces propped up against and on every available surface. He tapped each of the pieces that were inspired by Jack. Then he turned and looked back at Aster with a set stern face.

"These other pieces are just as good," Aster protested, motioning to the covered couch. "I still think the watercolor set would be best for the feature!"

Sandy shook his head, and motioned back to the winter sprite series. He looked pointedly outside at the wet sky, heralding the beginning of the season change.

"Okay the watercolors are a bit too summer-y, but maybe the contrast to the time of year would-"

Sandy rolled his eyes and soundlessly sighed. He pulled out his phone and tapped for a moment, before handing it over to Aster.

Aster didn’t recognize the new gallery’s name, some posh place Sandy has been trying to get Aster into for nearly a year now. One of their features had fallen through, and Sandy snatched up the chance to show Aster’s work to the gallery owners to try and secure the empty spot. But the list of upcoming galleries made Aster groan. “That dirt digging Phil is right before the available feature! Okay, watercolors is a bad idea.” Sandy reclaimed the phone with a triumphant smirk. He turned back to picking through the canvases, studying each piece with a critical eye. The whole thing put Aster on edge - it felt like a culling of his work and he wanted to hotly defend each piece, while also denying it for the show.

Aster rubbed at his face, wishing he could crack open the alcohol right now as he tried to reconcile the decision. Jack would never see the gallery, and he guessed not many would recognize the face unless they knew the inspiration personally.

He glanced up at his art rep. “Oi! Not that one!”

Sandy looked up in surprise, then back at the painting of the two skaters. His inquiring expression made Aster balk.

"It’s… It’s not part of the set. For a fr-friend." Aster snatched the canvas away. Sandy held up his hands in an "alright" motion, but the eye roll gave him away.

Sandy picked up another canvas and held it up with a knowing smirk. Aster felt his face ablaze at the pale body coyly covered by swirls of snow.

"It’s not what you think."

Sandy made a face, before glancing at his watch and his eyebrows raised. He hastily pulled the chosen pieces onto his trolley and strapped them down. He tapped his watch quickly.

"You’re going now?" Aster groaned. Sandy nodded rapidly and motioned out. "Wait, you’re meeting them now?"

Sandy nodded, making Aster check his wallclock. 330. Jack. He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. When he removed them, Sandy was looking at him curiously. “It’s complicated, mate.”

Sandy nodded sympathetically, then made several drinking motions and tsked his finger.

"Well if you ain’t here to drink it, I may be able to get a buzz!"

Sandy only smiled innocently, and saw himself out. Aster debated for several long minutes, staring at the clock, before he convinced himself that meeting Jack was courting with heartache. No answers would erase that Jack wasn’t available.

He ignored the mess of his studio, not up to reassembling it. Instead he found himself on his couch with a Rum and Coke in one hand, and the remote in the other. He wasn’t sure what Netflix had recommended, but he was almost done with the first season of it.

He was nearing the bottom of his glass yet again when there was a knock at the door.

“Go away.”

“You should really lock your door, Batman.”

Jack standing in the doorway took a moment to process, before he clambered upright, leaning slightly as the world slanted under his feet.

Aster stuttered a moment before spurting, “Jack what’re you… what… didn’t you have work?”

Jack dropped his backpack by the door. “Yeah, I uh… I did. It took too much time so I had to quit.” He worked his hoodie off tenderly, his shirt hiking up and all Aster could see were those few inches of skin. “I have to get home before… You know who, apparently. But I really wanted to talk to you.”

Aster’s brain slugged to process that information. “Wait… what- you quit?” He wondered when he got so close to the boy, and how he could smell like mint.

“Yeah. He told me I had to be home before him now.” Jack’s blue eyes flickered away and the unexpected pain in them made Aster clench his hands. “So why’d you stand me up? I can’t really cal- Are you drunk?” Jack’s nose wrinkled.

“Y’ask that a lot.”

“No I do-“

Jack’s hair felt damp under his fingers and he could taste mint on his tongue. Aster swallowed the soft noises Jack made, pulling the lithe body up and thin legs clamping to his hips. Jack’s nails dug into Aster’s shoulders as Aster’s fingers slid beneath Jack’s waistband, guiding the boy’s little hitches into a rhythm.

The door thumped close behind them, Jack arching with a whimper as Aster moved to his neck. “Wait, wait. Aster, don’t-” Aster grinded Jack into the door, releasing a low growl as he tugged on Jack’s hair.  
“Shit, stop! _Red_!”

Aster released the latch he had on Jack’s neck with a start.

Jack dropped to the floor, one hand feeling at the dark red mark forming on his neck. “Dammit!”

"Did I hurt ya?" Aster moved to look at Jack’s neck, but the boy ducked away.

"No, of course not." Jack glared up at him. "You marked me!"

Aster stared, making Jack sigh. "How am I going to explain this, genius?"

"Oh." It clicked. "Shit."

"He's going to kill me." Jack leaned back against the door, one hand to his head and fingers buried in his hair.

"Why the bloody hell are you with Pitch anyways?"

Jack looked up, and Aster could read his expression at all.

"I have a contract," he said bleakly. "I have to fulfill it. I just... I have to."

"But why are you _with him_."

Jack looked away again.

"Jackie-"

"Stop calling me that!" Jack flung himself forward, getting in Aster's face and glaring. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"

"You're still a brat," Aster spat.

"I am not, you don't understand anything about me!"

"You don't  _have to_  do anything - "

"Shut up! You don't und- "

" - but you're hiding from something behind that reason!"

Jack grabbed his backpack. "This was a bad idea."

"And now what, you're running away rather than seeing reason? You're an irresponsible, selfish - "

Jack slammed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those momentarily confused, Jack used the stoplight method, which is often used for safewords in BDSM scenes and is widely recognized.
> 
> Green means "I'm okay/great, keep going", Yellow means "Slow down, I'm not liking where this is heading, you're getting too close to my limits, I need water/other", and Red means "Stop right now". I heard some have added Blue, meaning "more, harder, faster, etc".
> 
> PSA moment - safewords are a very important part of BDSM culture as a means of communication and consent. Always establish a safeword, don't be afraid to use it if needed, and respect your partner if they use it. If someone claims you do not need a safeword or doesn't allow you one, do not engage.


End file.
